


Void Berserker Series Book 1: The Red Legion

by xXEidolonXx



Series: Void Berserker Series [1]
Category: Warhammer 40.000, Zero no Tsukaima - Fandom
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Crossover, F/F, F/M, Graphic Descriptions of Torture, Graphic descriptions of violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 10:47:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4916611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXEidolonXx/pseuds/xXEidolonXx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lord Ghathrax of the World Eaters is summoned by a strange pink-haired girl after his army is massacred. Read about the brutal war that will ensue, and discover the truth behind the legendary prophecy of the Void Berserker. Based on Zero no Tsukaima events during the Albion War.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Madness

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Fanfic I have already posted on FanFiction.com, but I would like to share it with all you amazing people as well. Any issues, questions or suggestions you can direct to me via PM. Enjoy!

**Prologue**

Halkeginia is a world of fantasy, sorcery and marvelous wonders. The nobles, who are part of great families that descend from the Founder Brimir, can use magic thanks to the power of God that courses through their veins. They have been the legitimate rulers of the world since the Founding of the Kingdoms, and they direct the destinies of millions under their iron fist.

The commoners, those who can't use magic, have come to accept this. They live, love, prosper, fight and die at the whim of the Mages.

The Mages summon servants from other worlds, called familiars, which can add their abilities to the already formidable powers their masters have. Some can become legendary. Sometimes, through the portals to these worlds, other things come through. Formidable weapons, powerful artifacts... and terrible demons.

It is a time of turmoil, and war. In the northern Kingdom of Albion, a rebellion against the nobles has started. Thousands have already died, and more will follow. But there is something more dangerous than the revolt itself. It's an idea. Armies can conquer nations, but ideas can ravage entire worlds.

In the South, the Crusades against the Elves are gaining momentum. There is no peace for the enemies of God.

In the West, the small kingdom of Tristain struggles to survive against the Gallian expansionism, and the power of the Germanian Sacred Empire. The King has recently died, and his young daughter is about to be crowned Queen, amidst the ambition of traitorous courtesans and dangerous palace intrigues. The Tristainian royal families are seasoned veterans of a hundred campaigns and frontier skirmishes. There is no place for mediocrity amongst them.

It is the 19th of April of the Year of the Founder of 1648. It is a time of darkness, and fear, and turbulence. It is the time of the Great Alliance, the Revolution of the Roses, the Red Legion... and the Void Berserker.

**Janus IV, 18 light years from the Eye of Terror, 998 M41**

Ghathrax raised his power fist to the blood red sky of Janus IV, bellowing his allegiance to the Chaos God Khorne. The Space Marine then pointed his armored finger towards the alien tide coming down on his forces.

'Slaughter the enemy! Blood for the Blood God!' he shouted.

The remnants of the Chaos forces reorganised, preparing for their last stand. The Tyranid swarm was almost upon them. Bolters roared, autoguns barked, men yelled. The ragtag army of cultists, traitor Imperial Guards and Chaos Space Marines led by Lord Ghathrax of the World Eaters rushed forward to meet the horde of skittering creatures that charged against them at full speed, weapons firing and blades bare. Chainswords and axes buzzed to life, their adamantium teeth tearing at air, hungry for flesh and blood.

Gathrax's warriors and the Tyranids ran towards each other, screaming to the top of their lungs until, with a brutal sound of utmost violence, they clashed. Both lines smashed against each other, as the fighters tore at their enemies in an almost obscene display of extreme savagery and bloodlust. The Tyranids were ferocious, and inflicted many casualties among the crazed Chaos warriors, but their numbers and ferocity could not compete against the sheer fanatism of the traitors. Ghathrax was especially lethal. His power fist crushed, and swinged in mortal arcs, sending limbs flying and beating aliens to pulp. In his other hand, a boltgun barked repeatedly, .75 caliber explosive-tipped projectiles punching into chitinous carapaces and exploding inside the scuttling monstrosities that tried to sink their claws and teeh into the enormous Khornate Berserker. Ghathrax gave himself completely to the massacre alongside his brothers, his blood-red armor bathing in the foul icor of the aliens. It was glorious.

The madness continued non-stop for the entire day, claws, fangs and pyroacid spit meeting Bolter rounds, chainswords and monomolecular blades. Still, despite the extreme violence displayed by the Chaos warriors and the enormous amount of casualties they were inflicting to their enemies, the Tyranids were simply too many to be contained. The cultists were swiftly swept from the field, the traitor Guards soon shared their fate, and the Space Marines fell one by one until there were none to carry on the fight. Except for one of them.

Standing on a rising pile of dead bodies, Ghathrax still fought on. His power fist slammed into several enemies at once with each blow, sending them flying with every bone in their bodies broken. His roars of defiance and rage could be heard clearly over the screeching of the swarm. Ghathrax knew this was the end, yet he didn't care. He only cared about taking the most enemies with him to the halls of the Brass Palace, to present Khorne with the mightiest of gifts. And so, he kept killing, not giving a moment's thought to anything but the next enemy.

'BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE! SOULS FOR THE SOUL EATER!' he roared, as alien bodies piled higher and higher under him and around him.

A green light shone behind Ghathrax. He didn't turn, because an especially aggressive monster with claws like razors jumped at him and made him step back. With a shout, both fell through the portal that had just opened for them, and landed on soft, green grass. Ghathrax didn't lose a second, and struck the alien with his power fist again and again, crushing its head under the highly durable adamantium weapon. Icor, brain matter and bone shards flew everywhere. Breathing heavily, the Space Marine got up, and looked around. Of it all, the least surprising and strange was the bunch of teens that now stared at him, their jaws dropped, and their eyes wide open.


	2. Binding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghathrax has been summoned by Louise, and he is forced to become her familiar, though he doesn't like it one bit. In Albion, the royalist army attempts a desperate last stand against the rebel forces that threaten the road to Newcastle.

Ghathrax rose, dark alien icor dripping from his power fist. He was surrounded by kids, barely teenagers, who were dressing in strange uniforms with capes. In their hands they held sticks, maybe as a symbol of status. For some ten seconds nobody moved or said anything. Then, a red-haired girl with a large bust pointed at the Chaos Space Marine:

'What... what is that?'

Others joined in, evidently confused:

'Yeah, what the hell is it?'

'It looks like a golem...'

'What did you summon, Louise? Is this another of your screw-ups or what?'

Ghathrax didn't care about anything those brats were saying, but he became offended when he heard the puny kids call him an it, and a screw-up. The Berserker looked around, trying to discern where he was. It wasn't Janus IV, that was for sure. The sky was blue, the grass was soft and green, and there was no sign of the Tyranid swarm. He seemed to be in some kind of yard, dominated by what seemed like a great palace, or an opulent castle.

'Miss Vallière, please finish the contract, and bind your familiar.' a voice said, behind Ghathrax.

'What? Oh, yes, Professor Colbert. Right away.' another voice said, this one high pitched and nervous-sounding. 'Hey you! Familiar! Look at me!'

Ghathrax turned around, and for a moment he failed to locate the source of the demands. Then, he looked down and saw a tiny girl, with strawberry-blond hair, dressing that strange school uniform. She was waving one of those ridiculous little sticks in her right hand, and her face looked like she was about to explode in rage... or embarrasment.

What in the seven hundred names of the Blood God does she want with me?

The Berserker leaned closer to the teen, and spoke in a menacing way:

'Who the hell are you? What am I doing in this place? And what do you mean by familiar?'

'I-I am Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Vallière! I am your master, and you are here because I summoned you to be my familiar, my eternal servant and companion, in this life and the next!' the small girl bellowed to the top of her lungs, mustering up all the courage she could gather. Then, grabbing the sides of the helmet of the Space Marine, she planted a kiss right on the respirator grill.

With a sudden roar, Ghathrax pulled back, throwing Louise to one side.

'What are you talking about, you rodent! I serve no one but the Great Primarch Angron and the Chaos God Khorne himself! You are nothing to me!' he shouted, raising his power fist to squash her like a bug. The next two things that happened surprised him more than anything had in his more than ten thousand years of age.

The first was that several runes had begun to appear on the back of his left gauntlet, erasing the obscene symbols already etched on the crimson-red metal.

The second, was that she actually attacked him. With a furious waving of her wand, Louise casted explosion after explosion, which slammed into the Berserker like a hurricane, while she screamed with all the strength of her vocal cords:

'YOU MISERABLE SON OF A COMMONER DOG! HOW DARE YOU ATTACK YOUR MASTER! I SWEAR TO THE FOUNDER, IF YOU DON'T KNEEL BEFORE ME AND SWEAR ME FEALTY RIGHT NOW, I WILL PERSONNALLY BLOW YOU TO BITS AND SCATTER THEM TO THE WINDS! KNEEL! KNEEL I SAID!'

With each word a new blast hit Ghathrax's armor, sending him tumbling backwards, his servos groaning as they tried to keep him on his feet. The armor was taking such a pounding that the readings in his HUD started to blurr, and the metal began to scorch and budge.

Ghathrax tried to respond, to take down the threat, but something stronger than his willpower kept him from doing it. Meanwhile, Louise yelled in rage, fastening the rate at which she cast the explosions, forcing Ghathrax down, making him fall on his knees. Ten or twelve blasts later, the Chaos Space Marine was kneeling down, at the mercy of the diminutive girl. The armor was overloaded, and the servos didn't respond, the internal software working frantically to restore primary functions.

The Berserker was astonished by Louise's sudden display of violence and rage. He didn't expect her to react in such a savage way. Forcing down his pride, Ghathrax stayed on his knees. This was the first time he'd been beaten down in millenia. The armor's re-boot sequence completed, and Ghathrax raised his head.

Louise looked down at the defeated warrior, and stretched out her hand:

'Take my hand, and swear me an oath of eternal loyalty! Now!'

Ghathrax looked at Louise's hand for a few seconds, before taking it in his massive armored hand. He was extremely impressed. If his new master was this fierce and warlike, maybe it wouldn't be such a horrible thought to serve her. Besides, maybe this was a test, or a punishment set by Khorne, most probably because of his failure at Janus IV. Who was he to defy the will of the Lord of Skulls?

'I, Ghathrax Crimsonfist, hereby swear before the Gods to be loyal to Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Vallière for every second of my life until my master release me or death take me.' he said, spitting every word as if it was a piece of burning wood.

'Rise, Ghathrax of the World Eaters, my familiar, my champion, my shield against all enemies. Your loyalty won't go unrewarded, as your insults or misbehavings won't go unpunished.' Louise answered, finishing the binding contract.

Ghathrax stood on his feet, and looked up again.

Everyone in the yard was deadly quiet, their jaws slacked open at what they had just witnessed.

'What are you looking at?!' Louise barked at them. Immediately, all the students dispersed, their respective familiars following them as they scattered in every direction. Only Professor Colbert stayed behind.

'Well done, Miss Vallière. Your performance was... unorthodox, but effective. No doubt about that. Carry on, please. You'll have classes tomorrow morning, so you should go back to your room. Congratulations on summoning your familiar.'

'Oh, thanks Proffesor. I will retire then. With your permission... Come on, familiar. We have things to do.' Louise said.

'Yes... master' Ghathrax grumbled. Of course, he had no intention of honoring his word. He would not have a little girl, no matter how impressively violent she was, ordering him around. He was nobody's bootlicker. He followed her to her room in the castle nonetheless, thinking on how to betray his "master" and escape this Khorne-forsaken world.

**Black Hill, three hundred leagues from Newcastle, Albion.**

The albionese royalist army was camped at the slopes of the Black Hill, preparing for battle. Those eight thousand men were the last line of defence against the fourteen thousand strong rebel army. General O'Conor, the leader of the royalists, looked through his spy-glass towards the rebels. There was a lot of movement in the enemy camp, and it seemed they would present battle soon.

'Begin deploying the forces. Musketeers in front, pikers behind, and archers in the wings, covering the cavalry. Leave the knights in reserve, hidden inside that forest to the west.' he told his staff.

The royalist cannons dominated the battlefield, in their privileged position on the top of the Black Hill. The gunmen adjusted aim, so that the rebel army would have trouble getting on a blind spot. Meanwhile, both armies started to move against each other. They had roughly the same composition, and their strategy was similar. The musketeers in the front tried to soften up the enemy, firing close volleys of lead bullets for ten to fifteen minutes, until the battle lines were close enough to use their pikes.

Blood ran in rivers when both pike walls met each other. The soldiers from each side thrusted, and pushed, and struggled, and screamed, and stumbled, and tumbled, and fell. The sergeants barked orders, the cannons fired.

At first, the royalist artillery wreaked havoc within the rebel forces, their higher position and better quality giving them advantage over the small, poorly operated cannons the rebels had fielded. The 36-pound iron balls smashed into the ranks again and again, carving bloody paths. But in the melees, the rebels were gaining the upper hand. Their higher numbers gave them the edge they needed to balance the battle despite the superior firepower of the royalist forces.

Light cavalry in both wings charged, and met each other with their sabers drawn, and their carbines firing at each other. Whoever gained control of the wings would most probably win the battle, because the pike walls, so strong in the front, were vulnerable on the flanks and the rear.

O'Conor's gamble of leaving the knights behind, hidden, paid off fairly well. When the heavily armored cavalry charged at the rebel dragoons in the eastern wing, it seemed the royalists would win the battle, as they routed the lightly armed cavalry and turned on the sides of the enemy pike walls. But the rebels had a hidden ace. As soon as the knights headed for the pike walls, the ranks opened and the musketeers came out.

The heavy cavalry is normally used as a hammer. What they lack in speed they make up for in attack power, as they are clad in the heaviest and finest armor available, and they carry the best swords and lances. But their worst aspect is the lack of maneuverability.

When the musketeers formed in front of the charging knights, the cavalrymen tried to pull away. They were not fast enough. The musketeers lined up, aimed, and fired a storm of bullets against the heavy cavalry in disarray. Dozens fell, the small lead balls piercing their armor without effort. Then, the first line of musketeers kneeled, and the second fired. More screams, more clouds of smoke, more knights were shot down from their horses. The rebel light cavalry seized the opportunity, and charged again. The agile dragoons shot past the iron-clad warriors, shredding them apart with their light sabres, and turning away before the knights could respond.

Soon, the tattered and ruined heap that was left of the royalist flanks were crushed. And then, the rout began. Hundreds of men had witnessed their cavalry being torn to bits, and lost all will to fight. Forced to face a numerically superior enemy, and with their flanks and rear exposed, the royalists gave ground, before turning and running for their lives.

The rebels pursued, killing hundreds, and capturing thousands as soon as they surrendered. General O'Conor was dead, an arrow having pierced his neck. His chief of staff were trying to escape, or had surrendered.

When the sun set over the horizon, only three hundred bloodied, exhausted and terrified soldiers had reached Newcastle safely. All the others were dead, captured or had run away. Nothing stood now between the King of Albion and the rebels.


	3. Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louise and Ghathrax get acquainted with each other. Also, Ghathrax receives a very special visit from a forgotten Master.

Louise was lost in her thoughts as she walked through the corridors of the Tristain Academy of Magic. Her familiar walked behind her. Louise had wished for a beautiful, powerful, and sacred familiar, but while he certainly looked powerful he hardly was beautiful or sacred.

He was 7 feet tall, dwarfing the small mage. He was clad in crimson-red armor, with chains and skulls hanging from nails hammered into the steel plates. The brass trims on the edges of the armor appeared faded and stained with splatters of dried blood. Thorns emerged from the giant's shoulders, sharp and mighty. The familiar's head was enclosed in a full helmet, from which two metal horns symetrically protruded. Steam emerged from the respirator grill with every breath of the enormous demigod that now served her, giving him a dreadful appearance.

They reached a door at the turn of a dimly-lit corridor, and Louise opened it. The room inside was big, and iluminated by candles on the walls and ceiling. Rich carpets decorated the floor, and a very big double bed occupied the center. The drawers, cabinets and tables were made of good-quality wood, and were neatly polished.

Louise stepped inside, and beckoned Ghathrax to do the same. The Space Marine had to hunker down to be able to get through the door, but he managed to do it.

'This is my room. You will sleep on the floor next to my bed every day, and wake me on the morning after sunrise. Understood?' the mage said.

Ghathrax felt his blood boiling to that indignity, but he closed his fists and said, through his gritted teeth:

'Yes, master'.

'Good. I'm going to bed now. Take my clothes and find a servant to wash them. Then, you can go to sleep, or whatever you want.' she said, beggining to undress. She didn't seem to care appearing nude before Ghathrax, and neither did he. He just took the clothes she handed him, and left the room without a word.

Ghathrax recalled seeing a fountain in the yard, so he headed over there. He had memorized the way, so he had no trouble finding it. The sun was already setting, so there wasn't too much movement outside. Only one maid was cleaning a stained mantle at the fountain. Ghathrax approached her.

'You there. Are you a servant?' he said, in a loud, mechanic-sounding voice.

The maid turned, and screamed at the sight of him:

'Y-yes, my lord! Please, don't hurt me!' tears started to journey down her cheeks, and she covered her head with her hands. She didn't look older than sixteen or seventeen.

'Shut up. If I wanted to hurt you, I would have already done it. Take these clothes, wash them and have them sent back to Louise de la Vallière. Understood?' Ghathrax told her, throwing them at her.

The maid only nodded, terrified by the imposing presence of the Chaos Space Marine.

'Good.'

He turned to leave, and then, he heard a strange voice behind him. It was that of the young girl, but it was distorted, in an obscene way.

'Ghathrax Crimsonfist, my herald.'

Ghathrax stopped dead on his tracks. Until that moment, there had been multiple sounds in the background. The running water, the chirp of birds, the screeching of crickets... but now everything was absolutely still. Even the water had stopped coming out of the fountain.

'What did you say?' the Space Marine growled, turning around. Involuntarily, his left hand went to his bolt pistol, as the power fist on his right activated in a shower of blue sparks.

The maid was standing, a half smile on her lips. Her eyes were rolled upwards, leaving the white side to sight. Her silky raven hair was floating in the air. When she spoke again, the very stones seemed to cower down in fear.

'Ghathrax Crimsonfist, my champion. My favourite son. You have disgraced my name. You have betrayed your word. You were defeated, yet you didn't die. You should have fallen, like your men. Your skull should be in my palace, looking eternally at the carnage and slaughter and the shedding of blood in my name. Ghathrax Crimsonfist, have you forsaken the agreement we had?

'Lord of Skulls...' Gathrax muttered, before falling on his knees. The Butcher's Nails on his head were on fire, and pain drilled his brain with every word the Blood God Khorne spoke.

'You have failed me. I should end your life right now and feed your soul to my hounds. But I have a better idea. I will give you another chance. Another opportunity to prove yourself to me. Are you willing to amend your mistake? Are you willing to pledge your soul to me once more?'

'Yes! Yes, My Lord! Tell me what I must do! I will anihilate this entire world and drown it in blood if that is your wish!'

'Though that would be pleasing to me, that isn't what I want from you. It was I that stayed your hand when you tried to strike down that girl, the one who bound you. I have plans for her, plans I will not share with you. You will protect her, and obey her as faithfully as if it were me. Do this, and your rewards will be great. Fail me again, and I will not be as merciful.'

'I swear it, Lord Khorne. I will bathe in the blood of her enemies!' Ghathrax promised, raising his head to look at the god.

'Also, I expect you to be as fierce and aggressive in battle as you were before... but you'll be doing it without help... from THIS!'

The pain in the Berserker's skull multiplied tenfold, making him howl in agony. He rolled over, his hands pressed against the helmet, every muscle in his body strained. The Butcher's Nails burned like molten iron, hot, so hot...

-:-

When Ghathrax woke up, it was already nighttime, and he was surrounded by people. Some carried torches, and all looked at him in curiosity. He moved his head around, looking for the maid. She was there, between the people, being interrogated by a bald man in a tunic and Ghathrax's master. The maid's eyes were normal again, and she looked very nervous and worried. Louise was wearing a nightgown, instead of her uniform, and seemed to be really angry, for she was shouting something to the maid.

Everyone took a few steps back, as the Space Marine's armor whirred, getting him on his feet. He began walking towards Louise, the maid and the bald man, but something made him suddenly stop.

The pain was... gone. Not just the pain Khorne had inflicted on him, but also the pain from the Nails.

The Butcher's Nails were excelent pieces of archaeotechnology, hammered into a warrior's head. They enhanced the warrior's aggresive instincts while suppressing their self-preservation ones. But they had a fault. They inflicted constant pain on their bearers, making it difficult for them to control their urges and impulses. Most died short after the implantation, but if perfected and implanted on a Space Marine, the Nails turned them into perfect soldiers. Still, the pain was constant, and many became mad, turning into frenzied, drooling and screaming killing machines after some decades.

Ghathrax had always managed to stay under control. Even when the pain was unbearable and it grinded against the fringes of his sanity, he would sit in his cell aboard his ship, and meditate, embracing the pain, offering it as a sacrifice to the gods in the dark.

Battle had been his release for millenia. The thrill of combat distracted him from the pain, and allowed him to achieve great deeds on the field, making him one of Khorne's favourite.

But now, it was simply gone. He felt more at peace with himself than he'd ever felt since that night ten thousand years ago, when the apothecaries had hammered the devices into his head and turned him into a full member of the Legion.

Ghathrax made his way through the crowd and advanced towards Louise:

'-ould have gotten help from someone, instead of sitting on the ground doing nothing! Had it not been for Tabitha, we might not have found him until morning...!' she was shouting.

'Enough, master. I'm alive, and well. It takes more than a little headache to kill me.' Ghathrax said.

Louise turned, and saw her familiar.

'Familiar? Wh-what? B-but how...?' she stammered.

'You. What do you recall about earlier today? Speak quickly.' Ghathrax said to the maid, interrupting the other girl.

'I-I don't rem-remember anything, m-my lord! You were just leaving, and s-suddenly, you were on the floor, screaming!' she said, cowering before the World Eater.

'Hmm, strange indeed. Is this the first time something like this happened to you, familiar?' the bald man asked Ghathrax.

'No. And I wasn't talking to you, mortal. Get out of my sight.' The Chaos Space Marine told him.

Louise cut in.

'Don't talk to Professor Colbert like that, familiar! He's a teacher! You will address him with respect!'

'Yes, master.' Ghathrax snorted.

'Well, Miss Vallière, you should get to your room. You have classes in the morning.' Proffessor Colbert said. 'Everyone, back to your rooms! There's nothing to see here!'

Louise and Ghathrax walked away, and headed back to the Academy. Once they were inside Louise's room, the girl sat on the bed and spoke:

'You caused quite the disturbance out there. Want to tell me what that was all about? Grabbing your head and screaming, and then staying unconscious for hours... Nobody could move you, and everyone thought you were dead...'

Ghathrax stood in front of her and told her about the maid, Khorne possessing the girl's body, and the burning sensation in his brain.

'Wait, wait. Who is this... Corn? And what does he have to do with you?' Louise asked.

'Khorne. He is my patron god, the Lord of Massacres, the Killer of Worlds, the God of Eternal War. He sits upon a hundred million skulls of fallen warriors, over a pool of boiling blood, overseeing every battle that is fought, every life that is taken, every death that is mourned.' Ghathrax answered.

'You serve him? Why would you pledge your faith to that demon? Aren't there any other gods?'

'Yes, there are. Slaanesh, the Dark Prince, God of Pleasure. Tzeentch, Lord of Change. And Nurgle, Master of Death, and Father of Plagues. They inhabit the Warp, and rule the destinies of mere mortals, and of those of us who have been ascended.'

'What is the Warp?' Louise then asked.

'Imagine a person. That person, when born, has experiences, feelings. These feelings, rage, fear, love, happiness, feed the person's soul. But when that person dies, the soul is suddenly released from its body. Are you following me?'

'Yes, but what does a person's soul have to do with this... Warp?'

'I'll tell you in a moment. Now imagine a sea. The sea is formed by millions upon millions of little drops. The Warp is that sea. And the millions of drops are the souls of dead people, crammed with feelings, experiences, emotions. They all float in it, amongst the Gods in the Dark and the daemons who serve them.'

'Daemons? What daemons?'

'They are the Unnamed Ones, the servants of the Dark Gods. They hunt the souls of the lost and the damned, and devour them to gain strength. If a daemon is powerful enough, they can take up a mortal form, and haunt the world of the living.'

Louise was horrified.

'So you are one of those... daemons?'

'No, of course not. Sometimes, mortals and warriors like myself take up oaths and pledges of eternal servitude with the Chaos Gods in exchange for rewards beyond belief. We give our bodies and souls to the Gods, so that we may gain immortality, glory, wealth, and many other things. The greatest of servants receive the greatest of rewards. Some are even invited to join the Gods in their realm as their undying champions, the daemon princes.'

'And you aspire to become one of those too?' Louise asked.

'If it is in my destiny.' Ghathrax answered. 'It is not an easy task, to impress a God.'

'But these... Gods... they're evil. And so is the Warp.'

'Are they? The God Nurgle has the power of giving life, not only death. Slaanesh inhabits every small pleasure, even that of taking a bath after a long journey, or eating a delicacy, or enjoying the pleasures of the flesh... Tzeentch is the Lord of Change, but could you imagine a world without change? A world that stayed still, unmoving... for all eternity? Even Khorne has a good side to him, for he gives courage, pride, honour. Like everything, the power of the Warp, and the Gods, are but the use people give to them. I'm not ashamed of anything that I've done in the name of the Gods. But I bet there are many in your world who are, even if it is in the name of theirs, and for a "good cause".

'Yes, but...' Louise sighed. 'Well, it's getting late. I must sleep, but I will think about it. Good night, familiar.' she said, flicking her wand. Immediately, the candles in the room stopped giving light.

'Good night, master.' Ghathrax said, laying on the floor to sleep too.

Then, Louise turned over to face her familiar.

'One more thing, familiar. What did you say was your name?' she said, in a hushed tone.

'My name is Ghathrax Crimsonfist, master.' he answered.

'I'll remember it this time' she said, turning over again and closing her eyes. She was soon asleep.

That night, Louise dreamt of a bloodstained field of battle. A thick cloud of smoke covered all, blocking the sunlight. She was looking desperately for someone. She didn't know who it was, but if only she could find them, everything would be alright. Then, she tripped on a horribly charred corpse. There were many other dead bodies, torn up, burned, smashed to pulp. Giant ship wrecks protruded from the ground here and there.

Then, Louise heard a growl behind her. She turned, and saw something moving in the smoke. She couldn't see it completely. But what she could see was a trio of massive, red, glowing eyes, looking at her. She stared into those eyes, and saw a hunger beyond reason, that humankind would never be able to comprehend. The thing roared, making an ear-splitting sound and deafening Louise. The last thing she saw was an enormous open jaw, coming down on her, and a sickening crunch as it snapped closed again.


End file.
